Perfection
by Jaka Tingkir
Summary: Senator Ratbat was a very demanding superior. He was in need of a capable personal assistant, and was willing to mold young Soundwave personally into the perfect mech for his purpose. Set before Megatron: Origins.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: **This is my first fanfic. I'm open for critiques (story plot or technical points), suggestions, and any kind of feedback except flames. Also anyone who wants to help me beta read this story, please send me a PM. Thankies!

**Disclaimer: Soundwave and Ratbat belongs to HasTak and their respective... err... owner, writer, maker... I own nothing but the plot bunny.**

_**ooooooooooooooooooooo**_

Just like the moon, Cybertron has two sides. The northern part is dominated by the light of its landmark, the prosperous hub-capital of Cybertron, Iacon. Science and religion are harmoniously supporting the mechanoid community, pushing life towards positivism and growth. Life is bright there.

Its counterpart, the southern pole, is dominated by shadows. The city-state of Kaon is famous, too. Infamous for the criminal rate, this city was so cramped with lowlifes, scavengers, thugs, and the inadequate. Hard to predict and unsafe in every inch of its territory, Kaon would be the last of every Cybertronian's list to have a life in. Life sucks here.

Living in the high and prestigious towers of Iacon is only one of the conveniences of his present position. He's a Senator; grandeur and wealth is not unusual for him. Power abundant and a sheer perfectionist, accompanied by the sharpest of tongue, he was everything one could expect from a terror boss-mech without the excessive chassis (equals to a fatty tummy in organics).

After throwing a signed datapad towards his thankful subordinate, Ratbat stomped into his workroom, looking for some time of silence. His internals whirred quietly; humming while fanning the overheating circuits. He had enough maltreatment for today; enough imperfections staining his grandiose plans for the city; enough construction delays; enough deficit funding; unpaid taxes... Primus knows there are so many defects to spin away the screws which stuck his CPU to sanity.

The so-called assistants are only hindrances; taking him down slowly by their incompetence. But he cannot deny the truth; he won't manage alone. And the other fact is; there is no one who could satisfy his demand for perfection, up until now. After years of disappointment, Ratbat had managed a list of things he'd expect from an ideal assistant. If there's no such thing accessible, he'd have to make one himself.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Charity event, while true to its cause for those in need; is not a very interesting affair. Consisted of important people and donator, it was a very formal, dull, and monotonous occasion; so full of elegance that there is nothing besides eating with gracefulness and empty-boastful chats. After all, what can you expect from a bunch of image-loving people? The nature of politics tends to kill characters of the people involved.

Setting his optics away from the applauding crowds, the Senator finished his speech and went down the podium. Familiar faces went around him so quickly unnoticed; a new object of interest had found its place in his vision.

A little boy drew the attention of the people surrounding him, lining vast amount of donated toys in a precise order of size; from the biggest RC Copter to the smallest rubber ball are all present in one long beeline. Ratbat must tell that it was impressive; even more than any elaborate report his assistants ever gave him.

Unable to resist his curiosity, the Senator approached the crowd, wanting to look closely at the tiny anomaly before the nanny-bot get to him. The flawlessness of the order is not the only point why he is interesting, but the constant, unbreakable focus towards one's duty that perked this elder mech's inquisitiveness.

The perfect traits located.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Arranging the blue youngling's adoption wasn't hard; almost menial, he'd say. While his position held no effect on the whole process, the young one's uncaring acceptance helped most of the time. That little blip only cared for his line; his perfect, orderly row of toy soldiers.

The only thing mattered was that the administration was settled, so the Senator could take him home and start the... _home-schooling_ session. So he stood, shook the nanny-bot's hand, and stood beside the little blue youngling while the nanny introduced the new foster-creator to the young mech.

Well, she tried.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Having a seat right beside the bizarre kid proved to be a great displeasure. Even in his private cab, with the bullet-proof shields running, and his trained chauffeur driving, the mech couldn't resist the restlessness. He could feel it.

Transparent, imaginary hands of telepathy are probing his head, looking inside his mind effortlessly. The ghostly visage penetrated his erected firewalls like it wasn't even there, powerful, eerie, yet gentle and soothing like night wind.

The Senator instantly shifted his gaze from the clouds beyond his window to the red visor of a certain blue and white youngling. Their gazes met; the younger mech didn't flinch before the intense anger Ratbat sent through his stern optics.

"Quit it!" Ratbat made his vicious intentions clear while mentally slapped the imaginary hands, "Or I'll _make_ you." Threat had been voiced and understood. The silent telepath retracted his powers with his visor still locked on Ratbat's vision hardware.

"Good. Now sit quietly like any good, normal kid behaves," Ratbat continued, raising his index finger to tell the kid that it was an order, not some preach. The kid obediently followed. "I will explain the rules in my house, and you will listen."

"You will _never_ use your power against me," the Senator added, "I will personally punish you if I ever felt you probing inside my head."

"You will not beg, plea, cry, throw a hissy fit, tantrum, or anything exhibiting childish behavior. I trust you are old enough to know what's proper and what's not. Understood?"

A slight nod was the answer he needed, and expected. "One more thing. You will keep your... 'specialty' hidden until I said otherwise." The Senator received another agreement, and finally said, "And don't call me Daddy. Call me Senator Ratbat. Do you understand, Soundwave?"

"Acknowledged, Senator." A harmonic voice called out, so robotic, computerized, and heartless that shivers ran down Ratbat's circuits. "Your rules and statements had been recorded and completely comprehended. I will not let you down."

Just in time the cab reached the lobby of the apartment in which Ratbat resides. "Perfect, Soundwave. I won't expect anything less from my prospective little assistant."


	2. Chapter 2

**First Flaw**

"No pleas, no crying, no tantrum, no hissy fits, anything childish is prohibited. I'm a busy person and **you**," Ratbat's index finger pointed accusingly at the youngling's masked nose, "…will stay out of my way. Any _clever_ questions?"

He, the evil perfectionist, his foster-creator, expected intelligent questions with a 'how' among the sentences, not the 'what' or 'why' ones. "Negative, Senator." Once again the monotone voice replied in his usual formality. The odd accent was rather unfamiliar to the Senator, but he let it slip. He got much more important business to do, things to worry about.

Besides, formality showed the kid's respect towards the Senator, and he covertly appreciated it.

Both mechs walked into the luxurious apartment's main lobby. Huge windows were on the ceilings, channeling sunlight downwards onto the sparkling marble floor; the golden walls were decorated in a classic style. Highly artistic white pillars stood tall and proud, even the receptionist's table was intricately adorned by spirals and geometric shapes. In short, all parts of the lobby were pure, chaste richness.

Ratbat strode through the beautiful chamber, walking straight to the elevator and pushed a button with a tiny arrow pointing upwards. Then he impatiently waited. Countless days spent waiting like that never got him used to the term 'wait'.

After what felt like hundreds of minutes, the metallic door opened and Ratbat again moved quickly. He punched in his floor number and waited until the door closed.

Glancing around the empty elevator, he realized he had forgotten something.

The mechling was gone.

The senator punched the button to open the metal doors in a hurry, shooting angry glance around the wide hall to find his missing adopted assistant. Ratbat found Soundwave tracing his fingers on a border made of geometric diamonds, etched into the lobby's walls with accurate precision and perfect similarity of each shape. Li'l Soundwave adored the marching tiny diamond shapes, and completely entranced by the perfect order like electro-moths towards fire.

Some people was being witnesses as the order-obsessed youngling moved his indigo head closer to the wall; he got this 'urgent' need to feel the neat line with his faceplate. Unfortunately Ratbat snatched the kid away from the wall's cold loving embrace and dragged him into the lift. This time the Senator made sure Soundwave stayed with him.

"You are not going to adore the wall's décor with your face anymore," Ratbat commanded, "Not in the lobby, especially in my presence."

Soundwave didn't answer. He still grieved for the lost chance.

"I demand your answer, Soundwave," again Ratbat ordered, but received no reply. He fumed, slightly disappointed by the youngling's current attitude. As the lift went up, The Senator recounted the reasons why he shouldn't reprogram the glitching kid.

A silent ding announced their arrival on the penthouse floor, and Ratbat walked out of the elevator. This time he looked backwards, careful not to leave the glitch-head behind. "Come out."

The indigo mechling followed his superior's orders quietly, easily liking the order and tranquility of Senator's spacey home. The furnitures were so clean, various antiquities and crystalloid, shiny things everywhere. And most importantly, they were lined based on their age and categories. Everything is clean and tidy; and sleek.

The youngling reached towards a vase on a metal table, and immediately got slapped on the wrist. He cringed, automatically retracting his hands.

"No, Soundwave. Don't touch anything. These are fragile, and I hate seeing your inexperienced hands toying with it." The older mech put the vase in the further middle of the glass table carefully, keeping it out of the mechling's reach.

"My apologies, Senator."

Ratbat snorted, "Let's get to your room."

At the mention of his room, Soundwave nodded. Without further questions he fulfilled the order obediently; just like Ratbat expected him to do.

Through the spacious living room, there was a short corridor leading to a window. There is a door on the right wall, and that's where they stopped. The room behind this door is where Soundwave will sleep for the rest of his days.

As expected, it was very tidy and clean, but no sunlight went through. There's almost nothing inside except one big recharge berth, a table, and a flickering lamp on the ceilings. It almost resembled a prison. And quite frankly, it frightened the youngling.

"My mistake," Ratbat stated and turned to another door right before this open one. "This one is yours, Soundwave."

This other room was definitely a bigger, better sight. Colorful cabinets, a study table, a computer set on a corner, and a small library on the other corner. The floor was completely covered by velvety bright blue carpet with some huge pillows strewn around the recharge berth. All in all it was just like any sparkling's common bedroom.

"Consider this my investment on you, youngling," Ratbat exclaimed, "Bear in mind that you are not staying here for free."

With his sharp words and blunt attitude at the same time, Ratbat always made his intentions clear without noting the other's feelings. Not many people liked him, but Ratbat is already on a position where he didn't have to care for them.

Ratbat loves to test people; driving their patience, mentality, and sane minds right to the edge of the cliff of insanity. It was a very sad drama full of irony with a constant, monotonous ending: resignation letter. Boring, but fun nonetheless.

Soundwave is a mechling coming out of nowhere; no origins, no parental identity, nothing. He was just there, like he was born out of Cybertron itself. Even without a mask he was dispassionate, cold, almost lethargic and seemingly unfeeling. He stood like a half hunchback, almost void of self-esteem or optimism. The only qualities notable was his obedience and neat nature.

Silently Ratbat admired the kid's room. He told the youngling to follow him into the bedroom and said, "Step inside, young one. What do you think?"

"Exquisite taste, Senator. The ones in the dorms were no match for yours," the kid answered.

"Drop the formalities, Soundwave. Act like a normal kid for once," Ratbat said while stroking the only recharge berth present. "You sounded like a drone."

Soundwave still stood in the doorway, keeping a respectful distance from Ratbat. His foster parent said again, "And why are you still standing there?"

His silence ticked Ratbat off. "What happened to your vocalizers? Can't you speak?" He walked towards the kid then, his height stood menacingly over the smaller mech.

"With all due respect, no, Sir," Soundwave replied, his words full of mannerisms but indifferent.

"Didn't you hear my orders? I said cut the formalities."

"It would be improper, Senator."

"Hmm? Aren't you my kid now?" Senator asked again, inching closer with each word.

"Negative, Senator. I'm just an as- mere _candidate_, to be your assistant."

Ratbat stood tall again, frowning. Then a smile formed on his faceplates after hearing Soundwave's answers. "You know your place. Good to hear that."

Soundwave moved aside when Ratbat reached the doorway, saying, "I'm expecting you tomorrow morning at sixth cycle. Don't be late."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: I really appreciate those who commented on this story; seriously, they are great energy boosters. Please keep it coming (:D). I love reviews. Constructive criticisms are always welcomed, but please also mind the human who typed this. No flames, please.

**Disclaimer: Soundwave and Ratbat belonged to Hasbro and Takara.**

**Manners**

Iacon is always brilliant.

Cybertron didn't have its own satellite or a star to revolve around like Earth's sun, but Iacon is very bright during early cycles. Countless energy is spent to generate electricity for the city's activities. It was almost similar to this planet's morning; except the sky is of darker shade of blue than ours; indigo with streaks of yellow from the city's lights to be precise.

The capital city is pure gold during mornings. Ratbat muses light-heartedly as he sipped warm energon from his expensive cup. He was in a particularly good mood that day; it was his day off.

Holidays are always welcomed. They gave the Senator some time for himself, free from the boring meetings, appointments and conferences. It is legal being slothful during holidays; or doing something no different than being a couch potato. Holiday is totally lazy day for him.

Suddenly his contemplation of cities and holidays was cut off by a silent, lazy greeting, "Good morning, Senator," followed by a fairly unmannered, but also soundless wide yawn. Soundwave stood not too far from his bedroom's door, just getting up from his snuggly recharge berth.

"Good morning, little one." Ratbat replied, easily disregarding that flaw. "You are up early. Here, have some heated stuffs."

"Treat: greatly appreciated."

Ratbat watched as the short youngling slowly moved over to the dining room, creeping his short hands upon the table's glassy surface, reaching for his cup of warm energon but unable to even graze the handle.

Putting aside his own cup, Ratbat lifted the youngling on a nearby chair and slid the boy's cup into Soundwave's grasp. "Drink it quick. Our session starts right on six; don't waste my time."

"Acknowledged, Senator."

Breems after breakfast, both mechs meet again in the vast living room. The older one is eying the younger, and quite suddenly cupped his palms on both Soundwave's shoulders, grasping them tightly in a reassuring manner.

A smile was on his lips when he said, "Structurally, you are tough. Your frame is very solid. I can tell you are going to be a very big and tall mech." Lightly he smacked his palm to the kid's shoulders.

Those words are all compliments, but Soundwave felt strangely alert. He could tell something's off. His words aren't finished yet.

"But your posture does not look so strong," Ratbat said again, moving over to gaze at Soundwave's back. "Put some strain to your spinal cord, youngling."

Soundwave obeyed. But it wasn't enough.

A sounding clang was heard when Ratbat slapped Soundwave's aft plate. "Boast your chassis more," Ratbat barked an order and again, Soundwave followed after wincing a bit.

Walking over to Soundwave's field of vision again, Ratbat put a hand under the youngling's chin and raise the faceplate up. "Look at my eyes. Look up. Look at between my eyebrows specifically."

"Both your hands should be on your sides," Ratbat grasped at his adopted youngling's hands then, putting them in the correct place, "Bend them a little. Good, just like that."

"Both your ankles must connect to each other," Ratbat commanded again, and as obedient as ever, Soundwave followed. By sticking to Ratbat's commands, he is finally able to perfect his stance; perfection by the Senator's definition.

But standing still wasn't enough. Ratbat picked a book; a thick, stiff, crimson, printed book of Iacon laws; and put it on the kid's head.

That session was like a game for Ratbat. His bad habit came out, preying down the young telepath like the rest of his ex-assistants. "Stay like that for several breems. Don't even think of dropping that stuff on your head."

"Acknowledged, Senator."

"Favorable response. I like that." Ratbat smiled an unpleasant one and sit back on the couch, crossing his legs leisurely as he did so. "Don't move your optics off mine."

"Acknowledged." The book on his head shook a bit when he spoke.

"Your chest bowed. Straighten up."

The book shook again as the assistant candidate did so.

"Your chin. Tilt it slightly upwards," Soundwave again did as he was told, "Ah. Halt. Good. It's good. Stay like that."

That unpleasant smile was still on Ratbat's faceplates; reflecting the Senator's amusement as Soundwave performs his reluctant show.

Several moments were passed in silence and slight movements. Soft fabric rustled when Senator shifted his sitting position. His eerie smile slowly dissipated as time goes, his mood drops in an unusual interval. A frown is taking place, decorating his aged forehead like a crown of thorns.

The red visor his blue gaze fought was resisting yet submissive; modest but lethal. Experience taught Ratbat well; he knew when to quit. This game was not won by him; but the pleasant feel was there. He was proud of his youngling.

"Isn't that book heavy, Soundwave?" Again a smile was plastered over the Senator's rough lips, this time he is truly amused. He lost the game but gained something better than pride.

Fifty breems was enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I am having a great holiday. :P Hope you guys have a very nice holiday too, and a great year ahead.**

"A reward it is. You have done very well." Swallowing his smugness, Ratbat removed the thick law book and returned it to its proper place.

"Thank you, Senator." The frown on Ratbat's faceplate deepened when the dispassionate voice spoke up his gratitude. While the obedience and silence truly flattering, his voice remained ghastly as ever, like a blemish on an ivory tusk. Luckily he doesn't have to hear it often.

"The laws of Iacon are much heavier to bear than that book, child. Now follow me. There are still so many customs and rules you have to learn."

Ratbat took his kid to the dining table and stood beside a chair. "Sitting in the same table with an aristocrat is very different than being seated with a proletariat bot," then he motioned Soundwave to come over.

"You will pull that chair for me," he took the seat right after Soundwave did so, "You will not be seated, or maybe will, but on a different table. Let's pretend you are allowed to sit beside me."

Soundwave nodded, understanding his role as the educated slave. Ratbat lifted him onto a chair beside him, and spread a napkin over the boy's lap. "Don't forget this before you start eating."

Throwing his glance over to the dining utensils, the kid frowned. There are so many spoons and forks beside an empty bowl. Must he use them all together?

"Customarily we start from the outer utensils. Then we move on inwards each time the butlers change the plates."

"I must remind you that you are still under aged, so politely refuse any high grade offered to you. The same goes for cigars, drugs, or anything alcoholic. The upper classes have their own guilty pleasures you must resist."

"Acknowledged, Senator."

"They don't talk while eating," Senator Ratbat pointed at bottled high-grade then. The bottle was soaked in a pail of cold liquid. "And when pouring high grade, don't touch the bottle directly. Put a napkin between your hand and the bottle's surface. Unfortunately, you are still too short to do so. Let's skip that part. Pick the furthest spoon."

The little one looked at Ratbat; examining how he did his task and which utensil to pick. A silent clink was heard when the spoon hit the bowl.

"Careful not to make a sound," the senator said again, "Your utensils must not hit the plate's surface."

But the sound was so pretty according to Soundwave's very acute hearing, so another clink was heard. This time it was done on purpose.

"Are you deaf?" Ratbat commented, another frown was on his features. "Don't make a sound!" This time Soundwave nodded, disliking Ratbat's raucous shouts.

There are dozens other rules to follow; and Ratbat told Soundwave most of them during the session. It was a totally dreary lesson to follow, and Soundwave couldn't do anything to stop the boredom. His legs were dangling off the taller chair, swinging in a rhythmic movement.

Ratbat could feel the movement from his own chair. The kid was unimpressed but it didn't matter. Soundwave came from rural areas, place where simple proletariats resided. Now that he had moved to the cities, he must learn to adapt.

It was normal for the kid to get bored; workers class had almost no rules when it comes to fulfill their basic needs; consuming energon was just an example. It is like proof of their savage, degrading behavior; anyone part of the bestial group must be thinking about how unimportant these aristocrat rules are.

"That's it for today, Soundwave," Ratbat exclaimed without casting a single glance at his apprentice, "You are dismissed."

Soundwave nodded, but not leaving just yet. Ratbat had something else to talk about, he knew. And he was right.

"But before you leave..." The Senator looked around his back to find Soundwave, but instead found him in the same chair on which he had seated for almost half a solar cycle, listening to his preach. "Tonight there is a gala dinner, and I'm taking you with me. I trust you won't make a shame out of yourself."

"Invitation: appreciated."

"Good. I'll see you at the twenty-first cycle then." Lazily Ratbat snatched the aforementioned bottle of cold high grade and filled his empty glass. "Retreat to your room."

No replies were heard, so Ratbat assumed the kid had obediently gone to his private chamber. Casually he put back the glass bottle into the pail of edible frozen liquid and put some transparent cubes into his drink. Cold energon is an unrivalled bliss in the middle of hot days; especially after an intense one-way tutorial.

"Question," a monotonous voice quite so suddenly intoned, "What is that, Senator?"

The elder mech turned around and met the kid's red visor. "This is cold high grade," he icily spat. "Didn't I tell you before that you are still under legal age?"

"Negative, Senator. I'm asking about the substance in the metal pail." Again the kid droned, tilting his head questioningly.

The mech grumbled and handed the thing mentioned to Soundwave. "It's called _ice_, little fool. This is made of frozen pure rainwater. Pure regalia non-existent in your old neighborhood, I assume."

Soundwave's visor never left the cold metal even as he accepted it in his tiny hands. When the pail touched the floor, some of the ice rocks hit the container, giving off pleasant clatter as they rammed each other. Ratbat watched as Soundwave shivered. The kid actually enjoyed the chilling sound.

The sound was very lovely for the mechling's sharp aural senses, but it was disturbing for Ratbat. _The kid is glitching again_, the Senator thought as Soundwave did his very unusual ceremony of pail-worshipping.

"May I have it?" Soundwave topped off his insanity report by wanting the old bucket.

A smirk went over the elder's face again; the type that sent chills down your spine. "Tell me, what good will come if I give it to you, young one?" Ratbat mocked, sipping his drink as amusement invaded his spark. He took enjoyment in humiliating others, and assistants are usually an easy target.

"But..." the kid started demanding, but Ratbat stopped him.

"A'ah. Remember my rules. No pleading." His voice and answer were both downright irritating. "Never question orders, youngling."

Silence came for a few astro-seconds; then dispersed when Soundwave answered, "As you wish, Senator."

"Good boy. Now retreat to your room and have some rest."

Little Soundwave always does all Ratbat ordered without questions, so that question was the first to be asked. His keen obedience gave Ratbat little things to mock about.

Some wondering came into the Senator's mind then; how long will that compliance last?

Cycles went passed so quickly unnoticed by the currently sluggish Senator. It was already the twentieth cycle when he rose from his comfy couch. It's time to call back the youngling from his dreams.

He stretched his back, loosening the idle backbones. Then he marched to his newly adopted youngling's bedroom, entering without even bothering knocking.

An old pail went clattering, rolling to his royal feet while spilling liquid along its way. Ratbat quickly realize that it was his pail of ice cubes, smuggled into the room when he wasn't looking.

Soundwave had stolen a couple of his favorite things; a champagne glass, a silver spoon, a ceramic bowl, and a pail of ice cubes. The robber is still busy recharging when the Senator came.

"Foolish little failure," Ratbat cursed, the punishments already being planned in his head when he saw the storybooks. The kid's storybooks, the only thing he brought the day he was transferred to the penthouse.

And so, that evening Soundwave went out of his recharge with the most unpleasing sound of a robber ravaging his only things. The Senator's deed was unforgivable but not unreasonable; it was a punishment for stealing, for being unable to repress his obsession for good sound reverberations.

The red visor watched Ratbat's actions in silence, not brave enough to speak his complaints. The one being watched comprehended the meaning behind that glance, and said without countering the looks, "Storybooks are for femme sparklings, Soundwave."

"These are lies, a campaign of a life happily ever after. No different from a revolting robber calling himself heroic," Ratbat swept his hands over all the books in the shelf, putting them all in a huge plastic trash bag. "These aren't allowed in my house. I'm confiscating them."

"And as much as I despise these juvenile comedies, I also dislike liars and thieves," his index finger was pointed at the little culprit then, "Never ask me about these books anymore. I'm donating them away for good."

"And make yourself decent. We are leaving after half a cycle had passed. I won't wait."

"You should be embarrassed, Soundwave," Ratbat said to the one seated in the backseat as the chauffeur started the cab's engine, "You are too old for such things."

No replies were heard. The kid took no heed of his foster-creator's words and chose to stare at the shining satellites in the black sky.

"You will gain an honorable position by my side as an assistant," Ratbat said again, "And to be such mech, you must mature quickly. Childish behavior such as robbery and ignorance, especially while I'm speaking won't be tolerated anymore. Do you understand?"

The younger one hesitated a little before answering, "...yes, Senator."

"Don't let your guard down even as we eat. Your duty is to keep me safe at all cost. Although the place we are heading is fully guarded, it will function as your training."

The cab strode sleekly on the smooth highway; no traffic jams were detected along their way.

"And if you embarrass me there, I will return you to the orphanage; in a trash bag."

Another threat was spoken, and Soundwave heard it clearly. Threats Ratbat threw always sounded so real and terrifying. But he has no way of escaping in the middle of a city he never knew.

"Yes, Senator," the little one droned helplessly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Ratbat and Soundwave are copyrighted by Hasbro. I own nothing.**

Some breems later, Ratbat found his little assistant ready to leave. He was moderately satisfied when he looked at the mechling. Soundwave still dared to look at his optics even after harsh treatment he had been given all day. He admired that courage in a mech; his mechling, of all mechs.

The night was brilliant, indigo hues sheltered their heads that time. It was a perfect time for a great dining experience in a luxurious bistro.

After locking the front doors, they left the penthouse and stood at the hotel's lobby side by side. At a slight glance, they looked like parent and child, but when one looked closely, there is a respectful distance between the small one and the other.

Passively Soundwave showed his respect. And disgust.

He couldn't understand why. The books were too precious to be placed inside a trash container.

"Little one," the respect was gratifying, but the other feeling was not as transparent as Soundwave had thought, because Ratbat could feel it too. And he responded to it by saying, "Professionals don't mix their feelings with their assignments."

"Yes, Senator," was the mechling's quick response.

"I'm satisfied that you acted your age this whole day," Ratbat cast a glance towards Soundwave to show his pleasant mood. "Do you want something as the reward?"

A manipulated silence came and reigned for a few astro-seconds. The mechling had already decided what to ask from his foster-creator. The silence only meant to give an impression that he was thinking so hard; unable to decide what to ask from the wish-genie.

Ratbat is powerful and wealthy. Almost anything he wished would be satisfied by a flick of the mech's fingers. What would suit him more than the imaginary genie who grants his three wishes?

"...my books, Senator. If I may."

A snort was heard from Ratbat's direction then, and the mechling bowed his head. The revolting sound meant offense, and the mechling was smart enough to shut up.

Silence reigned again after the sudden outburst. Just in time, the car came. Delighted at the aversion, Ratbat went inside the car and sat at the front passenger seat. His assistant followed, taking his seat right behind the elder.

The Senator told his chauffeur his destination, and the cab accelerated.

"Anything else you might want, Soundwave?" once again the Senator asked.

"Negative," the answer came as the mechling absent-mindedly stared at the indigo sky.

"Are you sure? Not even a robo-feline?"

Silence came once again. It sickened Ratbat when his question is left unanswered.

"Your answer, Soundwave."

"Negative."

"Are you sure? Every mechling in the city has them."

"No."

"Tsk. Fine. Have it your way then." The Senator crossed his arms before his chest, annoyed at the one-liner. Soundwave is rather sweet, but his overly-effective words usage and monotone are too irritating.

Or maybe he was just so used to people talking so excessively whenever he starts the conversation.

"You won't embarrass me before the guests." Ratbat had ordered him when both mechs went off the car "Do not start conversation with anybody. And stay behind me at all times. It's crowded inside and you don't want to get lost."

But without Ratbat's close watch, the kid deviated from the assigned destination and went to an art exhibition held in the main lobby instead. On his way to the lobby, he passed a board on which was written the theme of the exhibition, "The Golden Age".

Paintings and murals of many kinds were on display, and one of them caught the youngling's attention. The mural stood out among the brilliant ones, being the only one dominated by black and grey.

The mural was unfitting for the theme. 'Golden Age' means coming of age or old enough to enjoy the fruit of the productive years. For short, Golden Age means rest, prosperity, and unwinding time.

It's illogical. Why use black and grey to depict the time of joy?

"What do you think?" a mech who stood next to the kid asked. Soundwave glanced at the taller mech for a moment, then he turned to look at the object of his interest again.

"Isn't it fresh?" again the mech asked, "The picture of Iacon. In monochrome."

In Soundwave's vision, the mural is about a mech who is about to shoot his own head. It was not Iacon. And it was horrific, scary. Soundwave decided to walk away when the other mech beginning to tell the concept behind the art.

"You are not being polite, Soundwave," a familiar voice spoke up, and Soundwave found Ratbat towering before his visor. "Artists are creators, like Primus himself. So people respect them greatly. "

"Turn around and listen carefully to his speech."

The little mech was found. Ratbat had already reached his destination on the highest floor when he realized his assistant is missing. Then he took the problem of going down again to find the glitched young one. Finally he found Soundwave in the art exhibition.

"I will deal with you later. Now, greet this gentlemech here, for he is my respectful senior back at the Academy."

The unknown mech offered his hand and Soundwave grabbed it in a usual "Nice to meet you," gesture without the good intention. He shook his hands just because he had to.

"If an elite artist took the time to tell you the secret behind their marvelous creation, you must honor them."

Both elder mech then talked and chatted. And Soundwave listened quietly.

Ratbat's senior saw the Golden Age on the negative side. If life is a wheel, it's the beginning of the way down. He believed that the prosperous moment will soon pass, and chaos will begin.

The Senator's face turned sour. "Are you saying that the government is unfair enough for the rebellion to take place; for the people to revolt against us?"

"Of course not, Senator. That is just my way of interpreting the middle age, not the government." The other mech replied smoothly, showing the lack of intentions to mock Senator Ratbat. "I could see no flaw in our current regime. In fact, we couldn't even reach the Golden Age without your unflawed leadership or protection from Autobots."

Disaster was successfully averted. Ratbat nodded in satisfaction, then he continued to chat with his old friend.

"I'm buying this," Ratbat suddenly said at some point.

The artist blinked in awe. "Are you sure, Senator?"

The Senator laughed politely and said again, "That would be the best way to compliment your work, my friend."

"Actually a comment or critique would be more than enough," the mech responded again, a smile formed in his facial features, "But who am I to turn down a bargain from a man of honor such as you? I can never thank you enough."

Then both mechs shook their hands. A deal has been made. Afterwards, they went back to their own business. Ratbat approached Soundwave, making his way out the lobby in long strides. Of course, the kid tried to follow.

"You were quiet for the whole time then," Ratbat suddenly spoke along the way. "Were you trying to invade that mech's head?"

"Negative, Senator." Ratbat's assistant replied.

"Were you still thinking about what thing to ask from your mighty, wealthy boss?" Ratbat asked, flattering himself as he said so.

"I'm not, Senator."

"Then what were you doing?"

"I was recording your friend's concept, Senator."

Ratbat abruptly stopped his striding and turned to the younger mech. He stopped so suddenly that his little assistant bumped his afterburners. Soundwave stepped backwards; restoring his respectful distance.

"How very thoughtful, Soundwave. I cannot expect anything better than that."

"What do you want me to do with the data, Senator?" Soundwave asked dutifully. The truth is, he couldn't get what the artist was saying, so he recorded his speech to study it later.

"I want the recording later when we got back. For now, I just wanted something to fill my tank."

"Acknowledged, Senator."

"You better think about what to ask from me. I'm feeling quite generous today. You might not be as lucky tomorrow."

Soundwave chose not to reply. Ratbat knew what he wanted. He was just trying to change the mechling's mind.

The Senator watched as his mechling lined empty cubes according to their size, using Ratbat's, his own, and gathering other empty tables' cubes also. Soundwave was very agile and eager doing his 'geeky' thing.

"You're abandoning your cube." Soundwave stopped to drink a little, then he scurried off to another empty table. Then he returned, putting the big cube at the start of the bee-line.

"Don't you feel weird doing… whatever you're doing right now, Soundwave?" Ratbat inquired, "I seriously think you should quit that."

The kid eyed him right in the optics. The look in his visor keenly described his denial.

Cubes were starting to pile on their table, not just on Soundwave's side, but also invading Ratbat's. The square table was getting crowded; there was almost no space left. The Senator had his hands folded on the table, and his little assistant knocked lightly on his metal hand with a big cube.

He signaled the elder one to put his hand away from the table, to make way for his squadron.

Ratbat was irritated. But he pulled his hand anyway. "Finish your drink, Soundwave. Let's go home." He started his usual quick stride towards the door of the hall.

The mechling stopped doing his thing, gulped the remaining of his low-grade and followed Ratbat out of the great, dimming chamber. It's getting late.

He bumped an unknown mech's leg, and looked upwards. The last thing he saw was numerous blocks of yellow attached to the mech's chassis. Then there was bright light, and a gasp of surprise coming from the mech he knew as an artist.

Suddenly a booming, ear-splitting sound was heard, and Ratbat could remember fierce light coming from his back. Rich stained glass windows were shattered as fire escaped the restaurant's room. The colourful fragments pierced his back like a rain of spears before he could turn around and see what was happening.

He was lying on his stomach, paralyzed by the sudden impact. Judging from the raining water pouring from the sprinklers, flares on the floor, shattered glass, and the ringing in his audios, he could tell that a bomb had exploded.

Maybe his old friend wasn't wrong after all. Maybe he had predicted the downfall of the current regime. Maybe he had seen things Ratbat hadn't.

That was the first suicide bomb after all the decades of peace. It was the beginning of chaos, and Ratbat was one of the surviving eyewitnesses.

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay. I had end-term tests and assignments, but it's over. Thank you for those who had patiently waited, I hope I'm not disappointing you. And I also thank Taipan Kiryu and her sister for encouraging me to go on. Emails and robo-kitty: totally appreciated. :D **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N : Sorry to leave you hanging for sooo long. Re-written this several times, and finally, I got it right. :) As usual, feedbacks are welcomed.  
**

**Disclaimer: Soundwave, Ratbat, and the medic are not mine. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. :D  
**

Ratbat took some time to gather his wits. Then he stood up, the balancing cog took some more time to clear up the daze after such audio-splitting boom. Statics and buzzes offended his audio sensors for another short while before slowly diminishing. Around him, fire alarms had started their frenzy; blaring noisily. They filled the darkened room with red.

He looked around, realizing the fire, the rubbles of a once beautiful hall, and the shattered stained glass. Some pieces had flown and pierced his back, but not as deep as to run through his wing-like cape. He only suffered minor scratches and cuts, lucky enough to get out before the mess happened.

Recalling the past events, the image of his youngling suddenly appeared. Where had he gone to?

Unpleasant facts swept through his processor. Soundwave didn't go anywhere. He was left behind, too slow to drink his energon, too short to follow his superior's pace, and too unlucky to get caught in the explosion. But he can't be certain, who knows if the young bot survived…

"Soundwave?" Ratbat called, quietly at first, his optics scanned the surroundings for any sign of the kid. "Soundwave, where are you, boy?" He looked under the rubbles, seek through every nook and cranny of the large hall but failed to find him.

He had no other choice but to try searching in the red-lit, burning restaurant. The fire had considerably weakened, but still, it was unsafe; Primus knows how much longer the building would stay up. He should just go and leave while he still can…

But even as he questioned his decision, Ratbat took a stride beyond the shattered stained glass windows and into the crumbling restaurant. His body invited him against the odds, driven by parental instinct. Maybe the past decision of educating Soundwave had finally taken its toll upon the egoist Spark; slowly chomping away the selfish thoughts, leaving some place to be occupied by someone else.

"Soundwave?" He timidly called. The once white walls were coloured red by the sirens. The lights were replaced by crackling exposed cables; jutting down from the ceilings like horrible stalagtits. Tables and chairs were strewn about, testing his patience as he lifted one after another to look for his assistant.

"Where are you, young one?" he recalled, wincing upon seeing a puddle of pink liquid and a pair of unfamiliar legs. Fortunately it wasn't Soundwave, so he looked away and avoided contact.

Deeper he went, his pace getting faster every passing second. Bodies were everywhere. The Transformers' equivalent of blood puddled everywhere he went; the smell was mixed up with water from the raining sprinklers. He tried calling Soundwave again, but received no answer.

Fear welled again in his Spark, imagining ghosts looking from behind his shoulders. Ratbat was never the courageous one when it comes to tomb-venturing. He recalled Soundwave again, hoping to restore his calm. "Soundwave!"

A hand grabbed at his ankles. Ratbat yowled and fell on his back, scooting away before bumping upon another Sparkless body. Angry, he kicked at the hand, ignoring the growl of pain and pleas.

Ratbat left to continue his search. He ignored the next pleas and also threats coming from many mechs he passed, focusing on finding his youngling.

"SOUNDWAVE!" he yelled while throwing away rubbles. "Answer me, youngling!" Still no answer. Ratbat let out a loud curse.

He looked and looked, until he finally reached the location where he had dined before the explosion took place. Not too far ahead was a huge hole in the ceilings, no doubt the place where the bomb exploded. The edges of the hole were charred and pointed upwards; clearly the bomb was quite powerful to bend the thick metal.

Ratbat looked down and saw another set of body. He quickly regretted his decision; the body was too grotesquely malformed for his sight that his tank stirred. Looking away, he swallowed the energon he was about to purge.

He walked over the body, ignoring bad superstitions and continued searching. "Dammit, Soundwave! Couldn't you just send me a sign, a telepathy, a message, anything? Something to show that you are alive!" Again he kicked, this time he aims for some rubble, only to reveal a lifeless faceplate. "This is such a BAD JOKE!" His raspy voice echoed through the lifeless building.

Only crackles of exposed circuitry answered his outburst. He swore out loud, booted glass cubes, frantically throwing chairs and tables, trying to divert his thoughts from the frustrating environment.

Suddenly his visions were locked upon a single object. Under the red light it was colored violet, but the shape was unmistakably familiar. It did not take long for him to identify the owner. "Soundwave," his horror was perceptible on his features as he lifted the severed limb.

Standing up, he saw a trail of energon formed underneath the servo, leading him deeper into the messed up diner. The further he followed the trail, the bigger the pink droplets became, until it ended as a pool under an arm. And again it was violet, the blue paintjob mixed so well with the red light and energon stain.

Water had begun pooling near that part, dissolving the glowing pink liquid around the puddle to reveal a sickening sight. Soundwave was lying on his back, under a sprinkler with water drizzling down upon his bared and severed circuitries. His Spark was almost unprotected under the raining water; the delicate chamber was half destroyed when the blast shook the entire building.

The face that no one had ever seen was laid exposed for Ratbat to lay his sight upon. However, the mysterious feature was already torn beyond recognition, the secret rested forever in oblivion. His yellow optics flickered with nothing to read on; expressionless even without his visor.

Driven by his most basic programming, the Senator kneeled and scooped Soundwave, or rather whatever was left of him, in his larger arms. There was no denying this failure; he had let harm ruined the child.

As the younger one's head leaned upon his left shoulder, a small hand crept to where his big shoulder and arm met; scraping the reddish purple it came across. Either as a sign of gratitude or resentment, Ratbat never had the intentions of knowing. His concern was evenly divided by the faint beating of a smaller Spark near his, the dripping energon, the flare down the bare cables, and the way out.

This time Soundwave made his displeasure clear. _'You were too late!'_ A brief message flashed in the elder's CPU. Little fingers dug deeper into the bigger one's metal, fruitlessly trying to peel the metal beneath.

"I'm sorry," whispered Ratbat, though his scanners indicated that the youngling was too far gone to hear him. The scraping ceased, the quiet humming of a life source waned, and the smaller one's head leaned fully against his shoulder. Perceptive as he had always been, Ratbat was quick to notice the signs.

Ratbat howled at Soundwave's audios, paces accelerated into a quick race to the exit. Around him, the walls and poles began tumbling down. The exposed cables showered more sparks than before, and the mess he had made during his short search made the obstacles. He literally had to jump through a lot of loops and rings of fire to finally reach the exit.

Firemechs, local enforcers, more rescue teams, and even more curious citizen had begun flocking around the scene when a panicked Senator tumbled into the crowd with a shredded youngling in his arms, screaming obscenities all the while.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOoOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

A pristine white wall welcomed Ratbat upon his awakening. For the Senator, the calming sight was very much appreciated. He had seen enough red.

The next thing that came to his processor was his assistant. Where had they taken him?

His thoughts drifted to the recent events. Ratbat was about to take Soundwave back to the high towers where he lived when mechs began pinning him down, and from then, it was darkness.

Apparently he was taken to a health facility and had slept away the entire night. Soundwave should also be around, somewhere. He just needed to ask someone.

The hissing of the room's doors broke his train of thoughts, luring his eyes towards the visitors. A bring blue and white clad medic came, two tall security enforcers followed behind him. The bigger one had yellow and red color scheme, while the other had white and black. The red crest emblazoned on their proud chests told him from what institution they came from. Ratbat knew the identity of those two. In fact, everyone knew the highest officers in Autobot hierarchy. They were fragging celebrities.

"Good day, Senator," one of them said with respect, addressing the Senator properly while the other Autobot fidgeted restlessly.

"Good day, Autobot officers," knowing that eying the restless one will do him no good, Ratbat set his sight on the calmer one, "What can I do for you today?"

"We'd like to ask some questions regarding recent hotel bombing," he frankly replied, to which Ratbat responded with a huff.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything, young one. If someone could tell you anything regarding the suspect, it would be my adopted youngling," the elder purple mech said, "If he survives, I say. You might try to pry your info off his processing core, but I highly doubt the chances, considering how much damage I've witnessed." Last sentences came from under gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, no. Don't be sorry. I don't need apologizes," Ratbat started, putting a palm on his forehead, "I need some actions. You said in one of your campaigns that you'll protect the civilians. _Prove it_."

"Our priority right now is to figure out the suicide bomber's identity," the yellow mech answered, "Once the culprit is found, we'll…"

"The culprit is dead," Ratbat cut sharply.

"Do you see his chassis?" The Prime asked; irritation was clear in his blue optics. "Moreover, do you know him?"

Holding his gaze up at the cocky Autobot Commander, Ratbat nodded. "I don't know who he was, but I do find a twisted body near the hole where the explosion occurred."

Sentinel quirked an eyebrow at this unexpected information, "I'd never thought you'd actually get into such an unsafe environment. Were you looking for something?"

"Are you done yet? The answer to that question is not even part of your duty!" Ratbat snapped.

"Were you looking for something, _Senator_?" the bigger, brighter colored mech queried once again.

Sensing that the officers weren't going anywhere anyway, Ratbat decided to elaborate. "Haven't I told you already? My youngling was inside. He was crippled. He couldn't save himself."

"A child?"

"Yes, YES, HE'S A CHILD!" Ratbat all but whispered the words to the big red bot, "FOR PRIMUS' SAKE, WOULD YOU STOP REMINDING ME OF MY FAILURE!"

"My apologies, Senator."

"No, no you won't have your Primus-forsaken forgiveness! Now get out of my sight!"

"Our business here has concluded anyway. Thank you for your time. Come on, Prowl. Let's leave the grumpy mech to his own devices." Sentinel Prime turned away and leave. Prowl bowed curtly to the Senator, then followed suit.

The medic who came with them was about to leave as well before Ratbat stopped him. "Medic. Don't go."

The blue and white bot turned on his heels and returned to his patient. "Yes, Senator? Can I help you?"

"Where is Soundwave?"

"He's being handled by our best surgeon right now, you needn't worry." He answered as programmed, sweetened by a smile.

"Listen to this old mech, young one!" Ratbat seized the mech by the collar and pulled his face closer. "Quit telling me that everything is alright! How could a creator not worry if his youngling is being handled for twelve hours..." he began shaking the mech as his pitch went up an octave, "...and still not being able to see him?"

The close-ranged scream wiped the smile off the medical officer's faceplate. The younger bot was about to answer when Ratbat cut him off, "Don't say a thing! Just take me to him!"

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"He's in no condition to receive anyone." The medic who handled Soundwave responded quite negatively. His paint job was also white, and in one of his red hands, a tiny black cat doll was clutched. Standing near a patient's room, anyone would get the impression that this medic handled the one inside the room.

"Well, I'm his creator! I have every right in the Universe to see my creation!" Ratbat roughly answered.

"Well, I'm his _doctor_, and I _advise_ you to stop trying," the white-clad bot retorted. Ratbat could see the bot's nametag clipped around the left chassis. 'RATCHET' was written on the small gold plate. Something about that name sent uneasiness to Ratbat's Spark.

"I have all the power to dispose of you, Medic Ratchet," Ratbat said threateningly, "I can also send you to the deepest pits of Kaon. As scraps!"

Aside from the name, Ratchet was too young for Ratbat's liking. Honestly he doubted if the medic could handle this delicate procedure without any trouble. But the seriousness and authority in the medic's voice said otherwise. It felt like Ratchet could handle everything just fine.

"Frag it… FINE. Who do I think I am..." he exaggeratingly gestured, throwing his hands up, "...to deny a lovesick Senator? You may have a look at your youngling. But I must tell you, don't expect a picturesque sight." Ratchet answered grimly and opened a door, allowing Ratbat to have a look at the dimly lit room.

"I see that we have an understanding," Ratbat smiled his proud one, and went inside. "Finally."

Ratbat followed the young medic to the only berth in the room. Designed to accommodate a child, the room had stars on the indigo ceilings; bright blue, red, and yellow ones shone like a fake galaxy over his head. Holographic spaceships and planets orbited the walls, one of the planet's imagery plastered around Ratbat's head as he went through them, uninterested. Ratchet got to the bedside quicker than he did.

"You are bringing someone with you," a small voice suddenly creaked; Soundwave was speaking to the medic. "Is it a friend of yours?" The monotone was still there, but the harmonics were fluctuating like he was just a normal mechling. No longer was it the stiff "Yes, Senator," or "No, Senator," or the other one-liner he used to hear. That was the youngling he had adopted. Not the cold, obedient _underling_.

"Can't hide anything from you, can I?" The grumpy medic lowered himself to level the resting youngling's sight. "Your creator just threatened to turn me into scraps for denying him a visit. He's worried sick." His voice was strangely softer, a bit unnatural for a bot his size. Maybe he was executing the procedure called 'bedside manner'; especially before a wounded youngling.

"Can I have my feline?" the youngling said again, his only hand reaching out to accept the medic's plush toy. "Thank you, Ratchet."

"Do you want to see your creator?" The medic asked.

There was no answer. But Ratchet gestured for Ratbat to come closer. Once Ratbat stood before Soundwave, all the words he was about to say vanished. There was no telling how terrible Soundwave looked that time. A black cat plushie was held in his only hand, clutched tightly near his patched-up Spark chamber. His visor was gone, and the lower half of his faceplate was removed. The yellow optics offlined; but the mechling was awake. Cables pierced ports in his head. One of them connected to a communicator, through which he spoke.

"I'll wait outside," Ratchet motioned for the exit, "And keep it civil, Senator. You are talking to a _child_." Ratbat had a reputation for swearing and screaming obscenities at maximum volumes when triggered, and Ratchet generously warned him about it.

After the doors closed, no one said a word. Ratbat had to force himself to get to the berth and touched the other's hand.

"You were too late," Soundwave started. Ratbat pulled his hand away. Guilt washed through him again and he nodded in acceptance. That was a fact not to be denied, all those wounds would not be there if only Ratbat had pulled the kid along when he strode out of the building.

"But you came anyway," the kid went on, "I have doubts, I thought you abandoned me, but in the end, you came. So thank you."

The elder's yellow optics softened and looked at the floor. Shame rippled along with remorse at the youngling's uplifting words. He felt he was unworthy of such praise, that sincere gratitude...

"Your psyche waves are erratic, Senator. Have I struck a wrong chord?"

At his question, Ratbat let out a nervous laughter. "No, no. It's not you. It's just that..." he tried to look for other words, "I'm..." other nicer words, a euphemism maybe, to express his failure, but failed. There were no other words more suitable than, "I've failed as a creator. I've failed you."

After several short dialogues they have shared, silence had never ceased to come as part of their conversation. But this one was awkwardly welcomed. Especially for Ratbat.

"I want a black robo-feline," the kid suddenly stated.

"Felines?" Ratbat said, confirming what he had just heard.

"And my storybooks."

"But... those books are..." there was a heavy sigh, "... thrown out of the windows. Donated away."

"You are in no position for bargains," Soundwave added victoriously, "...Senator."

Ratbat bitterly smiled. Apparently Soundwave had learned to use his opportunities. "Alright. They will be here in no time, cunning one." His hand clutched at Soundwave's as goodbye, and then left the room.

**OOOOOOOOOooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Seeing happiness in Senator Ratbat's face was not something so common. Medic Ratchet found himself grinning also at the mech's glee. "I trust no curses were exchanged inside?" A wrench was held in one of the white bot's hand, but he thought he wouldn't have to use that soon.

"He thanked me," Ratbat let out a squeak, whispering to himself like a femme in love. "And I thought he was going to curse me for everything I did." He let out a puff, and continued with an index finger pointed at the medic's chest, "You better not fail him, Ratchet. Now if you'll excuse me."

Ratchet shrugged as the purple mech strode away, as fast as he had always been famous for; and even faster, if given an objective.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Anyone noticed the improved grammars? :D I thank iratepirate for beta-ing this chapter! Smooch-es for you! :^**

Dawn had reached Cybertron, and life prospered again in Iacon. Lights on streets and buildings were turned on, the city a bright golden dome rivaling the sun itself. The recharging cycle had ended. Mechs and autos were running about, bound by each duty to reach their destination on time.

Soundwave had been part of the chaos, running just behind the Senator's heels with papers and datapads larger than himself. Solar cycles had passed, or maybe decacycles, Soundwave had grown tired of counting, since that horrifying loud boom arrived and brought the most disturbing ringing in his audios.

Blackness had prevailed since then, the kind of darkness he saw only when sleep overcame his consciousness. No days, no lights. The youngling missed the lights, the bright rays which struck through his optics when Matron opened the curtains of the windows and peeled back the blankets under which he took cover. It seemed like his rewinding cycle would never end, like being on holidays, Soundwave thought gleefully.

Heavy were his arms, he could barely lift the tips of his fingers. However, Ravage was still within his grip, lazy as always. The black robo-kitty had talents in mimicking the dead. Or maybe he was truly dead? Anxiously Soundwave moved his fingers, trying to tickle the cat awake.

Telepathically he probed at the cat, searching for any stray thoughts. Panic seeped into his mind, finding nothing inside the cat's head. There was nothing in that dark universe except Ravage, he couldn't lose him!

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOoo0o0o0ooooo**

"I swear I saw him!" A pink nursebot exclaimed to another nurse, who put a frown on her forehead.

"Are you sure you weren't over energized last cycle?" her green and white friend asked, "Your face seemed a little beet-like to me."

"No, I was completely functional that night! A bit terrified, but operational!" the witness frantically replied, speaking faster with each word. "He walked towards me, shoving a cat doll in my face, begging me to save it!" Her friend resumed working. "I'm honest!" she shrieked, exasperated.

"You, my friend, are officially overworked." The frantic witness' friend gave a sigh and ripped a piece of paper from her note, giving it to the ghost witness. The pink one gave her a look with watery optics. The green one, the more logical one, turned away, "Just do me a favor and give me my needed work space. Why don't you go give Doctor Ratchet a visit?"

"You claimed to be a friend!" the eye witness shrieked again. "But you sent me to the hatchet and waved a white hanky happily in my face! What's got into you?"

"I just want the best for both of us," the other shrugged. Giving up, the pink lady decided that the visit would worth her time. Maybe her optics truly were malfunctioning.

There was no need to explain the surprise Ratchet had when one of the nurses came to check her optics. "Nurse, I saw nothing wrong with your optics." But first things first, if the nurse was unhealthy, it would be best to send her home rather than allow room for an unhealthy mistake. Such blunder could be fatal for patients. "Is something wrong? Did you see something odd?"

"You wouldn't believe it, Doc."

"Oh, please. I've seen more unbelievable things than you have. I bet what you've seen would not..."

"I saw a ghost."

Ratchet stopped his ranting. "A ghost? There's no such... I mean, there have been no reports of... spiritual... sightings, ever. Ever since I moved here, I might add. "

The lady stood up upon hearing his disbelief. "I know I should have been more scientific as a nurse, but, the fact is, I saw him! He _talked_ to me!" Ratchet raised his hand to stop her vicious rant, but she wouldn't buy it. "He shoved a cat plush in my face, with a hand that was _transparent_! And the kitty he showed me, it was a doll! How (swearing) could I have saved it? I am not an (expletive) vet!"

"Watch your language, Miss, you are speaking to your superior here."

"Well it's never stopped you!" she retorted back shamelessly.

Astroseconds later, the girl came out of her superior's office with a sick note. Ratchet prompted her to have a week of recreation and rest.

Ratchet eased back on his chair, intrigued by the sightings the girl reported. Despite her frantic, almost similar to mental-breakdown shrieks, the kitty doll she mentioned grabbed his attention. There were many patients he knew held such plush, but there was only one mech who exhibited such skill to pull that kind of prank.

Senator Ratbat had been a star in newscast lately, being sued for attacking a fellow higher-up. His charge must have missed him and the promised gift, apparently desperate enough to show illusions to anyone nearby, including patients in the surrounding rooms and passers-by in the corridors. He decided to visit that particular kid.

If it was merely a prank, Ratchet would be glad. But if it was a symptom of something worse, he would never forgive himself.

The corridors of the medical facility were crowded, but the ones leading to the telepath's room were awfully void. Obviously the gossip had spread quickly. There was only one little mech in the corridor, standing near Ratchet's destination.

Upon entering the telepath's dominion, a rush of cold washed through the doctor's processor. The white mech stood his ground for seconds, until the little one's dead visor found him. There was no malice to be felt, just disappointment and helplessness. Also hope, when the telepath recognized Ratchet's brainwaves.

The little silhouette approached Ratchet, hopping on one leg all the while before stopping in front of the doctor he trusted. Yes, that little mech was Soundwave. The shadow flickered blue when it talked.

"Ravage is unmoving," the emotionless voice pleaded, thrusting his only arm at the doctor's face, a cat plush drooping limply between the fingers. "I-I can't feel him. He's not dead, right?"

The illusion felt so real to Ratchet's optics. If the replica didn't flicker every second, he could have mistaken that hologram as the real thing. Telepathic hands brushed again on his processor, impatient for truth. Further assault and Soundwave would have breached his memory banks; the boy seriously needed to be kept in line.

With a firm reprimand, the boy obeyed. "You are invading my privacy, Soundwave."

Like smoke before a rotating fan, the cold hands escaped his head, and the corridor was empty again; so empty and silent Ratchet could hear his own engines whirring. Soundwave's grotesque little ghost prevailed no more; he heeded the doctor's message seriously. Ratchet continued his walk towards the kid's chamber.

"I don't appreciate ghosts disturbing my other patients," Ratchet said upon entering. The kid jerked slightly in surprise. Clearly it had been hours since he had had visitors, and much longer since he had dialogues. No wonder the corridor was so cold. Soundwave shared the solitude he felt through his projections.

"I'm sorry, Ratchet."

"And your ghost is terrifying, too," the medic continued, earning a single chortle and pained gasp from the boy. "I almost lubricated myself. Where is Ravage?"

"Here, in my hand. He hasn't moved an inch, not responding to my calls," Soundwave worriedly explained while Ratchet picked up the cat and examined it. The doctor played along, putting a stethoscope on the plush before putting the cat back in his owner's hand.

"There, he's all fixed."

Little fingers tightened around the black kitten, the delusional telepath impressed by Ratchet's magic. And blind as he literally was, Soundwave accepted the white lie.

Curse the Senator and his 'fashionable lateness'! Not for an astrosecond did Ratchet enjoy playing fool with Soundwave. The medic appreciated the kid's company of course, but he hated having to lie. And he hated it even more when Soundwave expressed his trust. No telepathic probes inside his mind, no disbelieving looks, no further questions, no nothing! He had complete trust in the medic.

"Has Senator Ratbat returned?" The frequently-asked question that the youngling favored popped. He missed his creator.

"He... currently, he's catching up on some business. But he will return soon, with the gift he had promised."

"Gift: unnecessary, Ravage alone is enough."

Ratchet frowned upon hearing his attachment to the imaginary friend he had. _Already?_

"Kid," Ratchet answered, brushing his large hand against the boy's repaired helm. "I've heard other boys say the same thing, yet they still appreciated the gifts more than their parents."

"I miss my creator."

Ratchet sighed inwardly upon hearing his immediate answer. "Just hope that he'll return in the near future, lad."

Removing his hand from the boy's head, Ratchet turned to leave. But the boy stopped him.

"Request: companion needed."

Soundwave was the only surviving youngling in the explosion. Actually, there were countless 'get-well' letters coming from across Iacon; the fact lured the public's eyes, and they showed astounding sympathy by sending letters, books, cards... There was no need to look for a companion; he already had so many around the city. His blind optics just couldn't detect them well enough.

"Actually, you've got letters, Soundwave. Do you want me to read them?" Ratchet asked, taking one of the letters from the pile.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Special thanks for iratepirate for betaing this chapter. :**

A magic box, televisions were.

Tens of blue and yellow optics were fixated on a large, boxy flat screen sitting before them. Mechs and femmes watched as the box exhibited moving pictures; a favorite news program was being broadcasted.

"...Senator Ratbat was charged as follows; assaulting a Senate member, intentional abandonment of Senatorial duties, stockpiling massive amounts of energon cubes, possible blackmail..."

A femme nurse went under the television station, and changed the program to cartoons. Boos were heard. The pink lady put her hands on her waist, challenging the many watchers.

"Your kids deserve a better spectacle." The pink lady looked at a Sparkling, whose optics were sleepy and watery, bored by the repeating news. His female parent unit stared at her son. The Sparkling clapped and giggled when colorful pictures appeared.

"I wouldn't want my kids to watch that disturbing news. Unfortunately, I don't have any. But you do. Do we understand each other?"

The crowd was silent.

"Okay, so we're in agreement. Next, number four hundred thirty seven!" An old bot stood slowly like a turtle, and the nurse came over to him. "Please head to Doctor Sheership's room," she instructed, and handed him his documents. The old man grabbed and yanked at the document irritably. He wasn't pleased by her previous action.

The pink lady righted her nurse cap, and went over to her green friend's desk. "I will never get a boyfriend!" she exclaimed, desperate for her serious friend's attention.

She succeeded. Her friend stopped typing and sighed. "Do you want another week of holidays?" the green lady with sharp optics answered quietly. "The Hatchet will fire your mudflap."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Another recharge cycle passed. During the next working cycle, the television again became the center of interest in the waiting room.

Images of the purple Senator filled the screen; the image was shaky. The reporters were crowding, circling around the Senator like playground bullies, and their questions were all brave and analyzing.

Ratbat's answers were ambiguous and evasive, declining to comment on anything. Blitzes flashed all around him, until he reached the safety of his cab.

"Have you visited your son, Senator?" one reporter asked when Ratbat opened his power windows.

"The court is more superior. He understands." For the first time, the gruff Senator's face looked tired and grey. His usual smugness and proud aura were absent that second.

"Have you made a call?"

"Yes. And he thanked the citizens of Iacon for the letters," he smiled at the camera before raising the windows, "I think that will do. Excuse me, everyone."

The pink nurse went before the television, and changed the program to a soap opera. Shrill shrieks and slaps reverberated around the walls of the waiting room. Groans and grumbles were heard. One mech went to the television and the newscast returned.

The mech and the pink nurse exchanged sharp looks before walking in opposite directions.

"We know he's lying," the pink nurse said to her green friend, who slammed her fingers on the 'enter' button in exasperation. Her pink friend was always pessimistically noisy, and she always ran to the same person every time she needed someone to talk to. "Look at those sad people! They feed on his diplomatic answers like baited petro rabbits!"

"You too like live drama," her green friend replied, "You know, reality shows?"

"Yeah, you are right, I love them," the pink nurse answered. "Because they are honest and real! You could tell how fake that Senator was! He deserves a heavy penalty!"

"Did the people see the 'fakeness'..." the green friend replied, twitching two fingers on each side of her helmet, feigning 'quotation mark', "...as well as you did?"

The pink lady was silent. She saw how those people watched the newscast more intently than soap operas.

"Then shut up!" the green lady closed their dialogue, and resumed working. "And stop hoping that bad things befall the people you hate. That's sick!"

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The next working cycle was hectic. Journalists poured all over the waiting room, their boom mikes disturbing many waiting patients. Someone reported that Soundwave had died in his sleep.

The green lady walked away from her chair and stood before them. She was interviewed by the hasty reporters and journalists. "What exactly happened in the last recharging cycle? What killed him? Was it malpractice?" The questions grew more accusing with each word.

The television over her head broadcasted her face. The waiting patients shifted their gaze from the television to the real spectacle, awed by how different she looked on the magic box.

"I... I..." the green lady stuttered, knowing nothing about Soundwave's sudden death. She knew when exactly he had died, but she had no right to speak on the matter. Doctor Ratchet was the most suited.

"Who is the one responsible?" one femme reporter asked in a sharp, professional tone.

The green femme mentioned Ratchet's name, and everyone asked for directions to the mech's office for exclusive interviews. She gave them what they wanted.

A phew escaped her as the crowd dispersed.

"Look at how fast the smoke spreads," her pink friend said as she peeked out from behind a door, motioning for the green one to come closer. "I called on one of them, and they come in massive numbers like energo-salmons."

"And squish me like a mud-roach! Why did you do that?" the green lady said irritably and stomped closer. "Didn't you see how Ratchet's Spark died with that child?"

"Yes, I saw that. And I figured that slight popularity would cure him," the pink lady replied tacitly, although guilt was present in her voice, "What did I do wrong?"

"Think before you act!" the green lady spat, "You've invited..." She couldn't bear to hurt her friend, looking inside her word bank for the right euphemism to describe 'disaster', "... a... major... disturbance to this facility!"

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"As you can see, the entombment is commencing right now. The Prime himself is present, along with some members of the Senate." The camera shifted to catch the image near the coffin, "Senator Ratbat's son, Soundwave, was injured in an act of terrorism committed several weeks ago by Inkblotch, his yellow friend from the Academy."

The pink lady clicked at the remote.

"The image of the terrorist was found buried in Soundwave's memory chips, and the Autobots thanked Senator Ratbat for his cooperation. 'The Senator's approval really helped the Autobots to determine Inkblotch's participation in this deadly act', said Sentinel Prime in his speech last cycle."

She changed the station again.

"And although Doctor Ratchet had failed, Senator Ratbat commended his service, and is willing to fund the exceptional medic's study abroad," another femme reported.

Tuning on the cartoon station, the show was the same. She sat quietly beside her green friend, pouting before turning off the television.

No one in the waiting room complained.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Days after Soundwave's burial, several charges against Senator Ratbat were dropped, or pulled back by the accusers. Judges had given their verdict, and decided that permanent relocation to Kaon was the best penalty for the grieving Senator."

The television exhibited images of The Senate's High Court, in each image the purple-winged Senator appeared in the middle of the circling table as a defendant.

"We'd like to offer you our deepest sympathies. And also congratulations, this case is closed," the magistrate said, before his hammer impacted the table.

The pink and green nurses watched the television intently, before going back to calling patient's numbers. Life went on, other shocking news would soon come to pass.

Full of surprises, life was, and always had been.


	9. Chapter 9

Grief seldom came to the flightless winged Senator. The last time he had felt it through his doors, the weight almost crushed his spinal struts. Unpleasant the guest was, barging in without bothering to knock.

The lingering visual memory of the blasted restaurant came flitting through his CPU once triggered, red and terrifying. The smell of mechanical fluids on the floor grating on his sanity. Whenever the memory struck his processor, the image of his delirious youngling also came in tandem, and guilt rose within his very being.

Ratbat would never admit his trauma, no way. Admitting it would add more holes for his cunning colleagues to revel in, expanding in size to finally clobber his entire career. But boy, it was hard to let go.

He found himself submitting deeper into his anguish, and in his fast breaking down process, he was degrading himself into a lowly beast, losing his temper at the slightest mistake. He snapped one time, lunging like a feral drone towards his colleagues who offered their condolences. Their words reminded Ratbat of his failure in protecting his companion, though he would hardly admit that Soundwave was the initiator of Ratbat's solitude.

At some point during his grieving days, he concluded that Soundwave's condition was _unacceptable_, and proceeded to take matters into his own servos. He disposed of Ratchet by sending the medic to the other side of the planet, under the guise of further medical education. Numerous credits were spent on buying the sturdiest armor and quickest processors for his future assistant to occupy; and more on instilling the precious Spark into the solid husk. He reprogrammed his companion, putting him into a customized soldier frame.

The result was an intelligent fortress, resting amongst the corridors of Ratbat's residence in Kaon, following the Senator's reassignment.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ratbat entered Soundwave's quarters, several breems after the estimated awakening time of his new private assistant, expecting his companion to be fully awake, and silently hoping for a proper re-introduction.

The doors swished open to reveal a fairly darkened room. The thick curtains on the windows let rays of light in, but only so much as to keep it dim. Overall it was quite large, yet empty. Not much furniture was present.

A large frame of a mech stood in the middle of the room, just beside the large berth, the minimal lights illuminating the solid, angular edges. Its yellow visor lit up, greeting him. The living fortress that was a curious and obedient youngling, stared impassively towards his master, observing. His faceless visage was deprived any emotion. His motions were voiceless and smooth, the mark of flawless machinery building up his frame.

Ratbat's spines tensed up. His memory banks faintly remembered several moral codes he had breached in order to bring Soundwave back. Soundwave had all the right to beat him up.

But beating Ratbat didn't seem to be inside Soundwave's processor that day. "Greetings, Senator," the larger mech droned, attaining the Senator's attention instantly. "Congratulations on your relocation to Kaon. Designation: Soundwave. At your service." His head was slightly dipped in respect, before looking up at his master again.

Ratbat swallowed. He missed the simple, faulty, yet sincere companionship the proletariat child had offered not so long ago.

"Greetings, Soundwave," Ratbat replied after some clicks of reminiscing. "I... ah, how you have grown." The winged purple mech walked towards Soundwave, quickly aware of their height difference. He had to look up to meet the other's yellow visor. "I hope you're comfortable in there."

"Efforts: acknowledged and appreciated. External frame is functioning at maximum capacity."

_Most efficient, _the Senator rubbed his chin in thought."Glad that you are," he took a step back, addressing his assistant more comfortably. "I'm sure you know what Kaon is infamous for. Now that we're amongst the most awful of the planet, I am required to add one more rule to your cramped handbook," he gave a bitter smile as he spoke. "Survive."

A moment of silence later, Soundwave gave his response. "Acknowledged."

"Perfect. Now, follow me," Ratbat turned on his heels and walked towards the large living room. Soundwave trailed behind him; his feet were light on Ratbat's floor. The room they went into was more spacey than the one Ratbat had in Iacon, lacking the expensive and unnecessary furniture. There was only a basic set of sofas and a small table, and the lighting came from several basic implanted bulbs. It was lacking in art, but sufficient for a living room.

"Welcome to my new premises, Soundwave. Relocation to Kaon isn't exactly a promotion, but given your impoverished background, I hope you'll find this... bearable," Ratbat explained with a thin not of disdain in his voice, "I'm not satisfied with this, and hopefully, I'll find some spare clicks and funds to decorate soon."

Ratbat was removed from his royal nest in Iacon some lunar cycles ago, as punishment for his assault upon his comrade. It wasn't exactly demotion, since Ratbat could still have his title and facilities. The only difference was the undesirable location.

A hiss of a cat was caught by Ratbat's audio, followed by Soundwave's shift of vision. Focusing on the naughty black cat he had picked up from nearby shelter, Ratbat grumbled, "Oh, right. I've found what you asked for."

The black cat jumped from a window pane onto the curtains. Nasty creaks were heard as the feral mech dug his claws into the soft material, threads of the cloth torn as he adventurously clawed his way upwards, finally settling on all fours at the top of the highest empty shelves. "Figured I'd present the cat in a pretty box and red bows, but..." Ratbat shrugged, "...grew tired of trying sometime ago."

Soundwave didn't give any answer. He fixed his gaze on Ratbat when the elder one spoke, "Guess I should've bought one instead of adopting an alley cat from the shelter. Catch and put him in his cage. I'll trade it with something tamer." Ratbat started walking away from the sight.

"Trade: unnecessary," Soundwave finally replied, ending his silence.

Ratbat paused, offering Soundwave a questioning gaze before giving in to curiosity and worry. "Do you think so? Can you handle it?"

The feline had climbed up to the highest spot of the living room, but had no way to go down, given the rarity of the surfaces he could land onto. Walking around the narrow surface it had put itself onto, it started mewling for help.

"Affirmative, Senator." The navy blue mech proceeded to the shelf, reaching up to catch the kitten. However, he held the cat too loosely. Upon capture, the animal jumped onto its owner's helm, then down his wide shoulders, and landed on the floor. Then the feline bolted off, claws furiously clicking as he slipped during a sharp turn.

Ratbat slightly lifted his left leg as the feline passed by. A slight grunt escaped the mech. It would take a while to tame that animal.

"Resistance: temporary," Soundwave explained effectively.

His senior shrugged. "I won't complain as long as he's kept away from my room," Ratbat exclaimed, one finger raised whenever a warning was issued, "I won't be thrilled if I find your cat peeking amongst my stuff. And he's yours. I'm not going to bathe or feed him... it. You will."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The term 'government' was generally used to address anyone in top positions of the state's service. Kaon was filled to the brim by those unsatisfied with the Cybertronian government. A high government official like Ratbat wouldn't mix well with the population.

Security problems and the mounting pressure of work formed fatigue and ire whenever he reached his personal quarters.

"Greetings, Senator," his personal assistant greeted upon Ratbat's arrival. The elder mech looked around. All looked well in his house; the living room empty yet clean, the lights were turned on, a cube of fuel on a small table, and a black cat hungrily licking from its own plate of fuel. Then he turned to a certain navy mech.

Noticing the slight scratches on his assistant's servos, Ratbat narrowed his optics. "Did you have any trouble with the cat?"

"Negative, Senator. Ravage: disciplined and will be kept out of your way."

The higher society mech raised an eyebrow, finding himself doubting the credibility of the answer. "You better not lie," he reprimanded, one finger raised to issue a warning, "I had the highest level of Autobot security possible and the thugs still found a way to get a flaming cigar on my shoulder. The last thing I want is a feral animal ready to shred my _wings_ during my recharge cycle."

Soundwave noted the irritation and little burn mark on his superior's shoulder plate.

The Senator turned towards his room then, motioning for Soundwave to follow. "Come. Time to teach you how I perform my duties, and how you could be of help." The door swished open, revealing Ratbat's workroom and a large computer console.

The computer, during the standby mode, was set to display an empty blue screen. The current date was imprinted on top left corner, and the username right below it. Before the monitor was a chair and a control station.

Both mechs went through the threshold and Ratbat sat on a chair most comfortably set before the giant screen of the console. "This state hired me for my knowledge and judgement," he confirmed this fact before pointing at the control pedestal, on which were sets of buttons, keyboard like. "Your place is there. This apparatus is indirectly connected to Cybertron's mainframe, from which you can access any kind of information regarding anything known on Cybertron."

If knowledge was power, then the ultimate weapon of Cybertron was at their fingertips.

"You can't just access any data, however; since some was locked and hidden from public view," Ratbat mused, more to himself than to the mech beside him. "But this is infinitely more than enough. This console is valuable. I'll leave its maintenance and operations in your servos, in other words, this is also your _toy,_" Ratbat gestured at the computer console, swivelling his chair to look at his assistant.

The indigo mech's visor took on a brighter glow than usual. He was interested.

"You may use it as you please, but if you break it, you have to mend it. No tolerances. This thing belongs to the state. Not mine. Guess the price," Ratbat challenged, smirking cruelly in his chair. He didn't wait for an answer, and continued to teach Soundwave about the workings of the console.

Once the huge computer was running, Senator Ratbat stood and walked towards the control panel. Soundwave obediently stepped aside, allowing his master access to the console.

"Stay where you are," Ratbat commanded rather softly, tugging at his assistant's arms before he could step further, "I'll show you how to activate the programs. It will not be repeated, so listen and watch carefully."

Letting action do the teaching, Ratbat kept his mouth shut and started pushing buttons. He pulled up news and finance broadcast programmes, several other charts and live public opinion diagrams of the state he was stationed in. His optics were locked on the latter. Curses were welling behind his lip components, but he swallowed them just to avoid tainting the young mind beside him.

The people of Kaon were distressed. They had doubts about the Autobots and their safety; the high criminal rates weren't helping. In this condition, they were easily manipulated against the government.

Ratbat ground his dental plates; a tendency he had developed whenever nervousness kicked in. The attack he had experienced recently was quite minor if compared to their potential danger; the public could do much worse if given reason.

"Who am I kidding," Ratbat commented at the ugly stats, skimming through the charts. Each vote was dominated by red instead of green, and it looked like the sheets were going to devour him.

His relocation turned out to be both exile and slow torture. Those he served had figuratively thrown him into a pit of Sharkticons. He turned towards Soundwave, silent as a pillar behind him, watching him as told. Either waiting for orders or finding amusement in the mixed emotions on his faceplates, Ratbat had no idea.

The Senator rubbed his temples, suddenly finding the other's quiet presence disturbing. "Retreat to your quarters, Soundwave. This session has concluded."

"Senator Ratbat," the echoing monotone called, "Further explanation regarding software controls is required."

"Get out," Ratbat paid no heed, sweeping his hand to send his assistant away, "And don't return until the next solar cycle begins. Your presence is not required until then."

The Senator's words were greeted by deep silence. In Soundwave's mind, emotions were rippling furiously. Pride and burning curiosity almost bested obedience in Soundwave's mind. The temptation to disobey and pester Ratbat with questions regarding their new shared belonging was hard to resist.

But the eagerness to serve was installed deep within his customized processor, next to his survival instinct. He allowed his superior scanning system to read his master. Ratbat's discontentment had been rising since the polls were brought up. He would look into the matter later. Right now, his priority was to heed the order.

"...as you wish," Soundwave said, soundlessly stepping towards the door. Ratbat slumped into his chair, burying his face in his palms once the doors were shut. He was suddenly too scared to welcome tomorrow.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**


	10. Chapter 10

_**The Transformers are not mine. They are Hasbro's.**_

**Extra special thanks for iratepirate for helping me beta this chapter. ;) **

_**Solar cycle: day**_

_**Lunar cycle: night**_

_**Deca-cycle: month**_

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Such shrapnel in the cogs," Ratbat commented. The local news broadcast was reporting an occurring riot, and predicted a much bigger incident as it referenced a past event, when those said low-class anarchists burned down a vital government building. "Short-sighted mechs. Destroying, _pillaging_ as they see fit." He particularly hated the image of mechs yelling provocations while taking down a wire fence and burning tires.

In the distant past, the people were reacting to energon shortages, while in Ratbat's reign, they were predicted to stir chaos because of insecurity.

Ratbat's clenched fist and gritted dentals described his emotions clearer than any words. The crowds could take him down upon the slightest mistake, and he wasn't ready to live amongst them anytime soon. Ratbat would rather deactivate himself than live in poverty.

To save his position, Ratbat had to gain the public's favor. And it was no easy task, with the majority of people displeased by the current government. What could a single pebble do to straighten a crumbling pillar? He didn't even realize he was rubbing his temples again, blank stare meeting a flurry of images before him. What a wonderful way to start the solar cycle.

"Senator, The Kaon Tribunes' public polling results are gathered," his assistant notified him, but Ratbat wasn't the slightest bit interested in the information.

"Silence, Soundwave."

"The polling result: critical for your next judgement."

"Stand down, Soundwave. You know better than to challenge me."

Through the corners of his optic, Ratbat saw the brightly burning yellow visor but remained oblivious to his assistant's frustration. "I insist, Senator Ratbat. Kaon Tribunes: responsible for taking the polls. Surveys: conducted directly on the streets. The facts are gathered from the people themselves. It will provide the best solution for your current predicament."

The Kaon Tribunes was the largest local news corporation. That perked Ratbat's interest. "What a coincidence," he regarded Soundwave fully, optics scanning the other's, scrutinizing. "And what predicament are you referring to, my dear child?"

"Senator Ratbat's reign: predicted as short lived," the visor blazed in challenge.

Ratbat's optics narrowed in building rage, silently promising a whole world of hurt. His own creation or not, there would be consequences for looking down upon the winged Senator and his capabilities. His fists were clenched, ready to deliver said consequences. He didn't need to be reminded of his position.

"Prediction: could be proven erroneous," Soundwave continued. Ratbat's rage quickly dissipated, newfound hope resided in its place. "The polls could be put to your advantage."

"Show me," Ratbat gave in, retreating to his chair, but not sitting on it. Soundwave nodded and continued his duty.

A statistic chart was shown on the screen. It was about a survey of what the government could do about present Kaon, and the people's answers were gathered as a poll. The majority of people wished that a particular rapidly-growing street market on an important road be closed, because it was hindering transport and often caused traffic jams.

Aside from the government, the public was also tired of the market getting in the way, delaying them in fulfilling their roles. Not to mention the thugs and rogues crawling the market during nights.

Ratbat read in silence, absorbed in thoughts. This wish was easy enough, he mused. He would give them that, if it would shut them up. "Mobilize the Autobots and bulldoze those vermin flat," he ordered. "Send a notification to their leader – they must have one – to remove themselves before the end of the deca-cycle, or face severe punishments," Ratbat finished. "Now, on to the next..."

"Course of action: not recommended," Soundwave said, a little too bravely, and was swiftly punished. Ratbat walked up to him quickly, anger boiling in his face as the back of his hand impacted the side of Soundwave's helm. The strength left the educated slave reeling; he lowered his head as one of his indigo servos reached up to touch where the hit had occurred.

"Enough of this disobedience!" Ratbet bellowed, massaging his hurting servo as he looked at his underling, "I overlooked the first one, because you had some important information to deliver. I had assumed that you know your place and would not repeat the blunder. But clearly I was mistaken." He lowered the strength of his speech, whispering like an angry ghost. "Give me one reason, one _very _good reason, why your judgement _precedes_ mine."

Lucky for Soundwave, that statement wasn't rhetorical; Ratbat was seeking an answer. Despite the aggression, he was willing to listen. That was the only thing that mattered to Soundwave as he elaborated further. "Deploying Autobots: risking the uprising of the potential riot. The street market: the merchants' source of living. Bulldozing the market will only provide them more reason to take up arms and assault you."

Ratbat scrunched his optic ridges together. He had to admit, Soundwave had a point. "And when that happens, I assume you'd take the place of the loyal, obedient servant and stake your life for my protection."

Soundwave was silent for a second, letting the words sink into his processor and proceeding to calculate the possible outcomes. "I... would happily oblige, Senator. But, even if your life is successfully preserved by sacrificing mine, the results of that action would _still _be unsatisfactory," Soundwave explained further, knowing that Ratbat couldn't live as an outcast, stripped of his rank and wealth. "Course of action: highly faulty," Soundwave heavily repeated.

He just implied that Ratbat wouldn't be pleased by the result anyway if the bulldozing idea was to be commenced. This slave, his assistant, was really daring for someone whose life depended solely on the kindness of his master. Ratbat tried peeking at the possible sentimental reasons. Maybe affection was responsible for pushing this telepath past the limits of Ratbat's patience. Maybe this youngling was honestly concerned for Ratbat's well-being. Maybe Soundwave had put his whole intelligence and knowledge in building the correct solution to his problem. And maybe, that mechling had grown into the ideal assistant he had been so keen on having.

"If you insist," Ratbat replied. Soundwave gave the telltale signs of saying '_Finally!' _in the amount of air he vented and his relaxing posture. "Advise me, then. What move would be acceptable for you, Soundwave?"

"Lobby them as you would your colleagues," his assistant offered, and Ratbat had to restrain himself to not laugh. A chortle and a bitterly amused grin came out however. "Have the merchants select their representatives and invite them for supper." Idealistic, his next impression on Soundwave was.

"Are you suggesting that I should lull them with high-grades?" Ratbat abruptly cut his assistant's speech, "They might be pitiful, but they're not as stupid as you have just implied."

"Negative," Soundwave lifted his hand to interrupt, "The purpose of the supper is to show our goodwill and let their anger wane, so they would accept their relocation better."

"Goodwill? Relocation, Soundwave?" the superior ranking one amongst them smirked, amused at the diplomatic choice of words. Ratbat watched as another image was presented on the large screen. It was a market field the Kaon government had recently built to accommodate those merchants, but was neglected as they continued selling their goods on the main street, closer to the crowds. Soundwave was going to make them move out of the streets to a more suitable place.

It started to look realistic. The bitter laugh and chortles looked unnecessary to Ratbat as Soundwave laid out his plans. "And allowing their anger to wane? I doubt one supper is enough... Are you implying that several... arrangements are necessary?"

Soundwave nodded, visor blazing in acknowledgement. "Affirmative."

"The duration of the plan?"

"Approximately twelve deca-cycles," Soundwave added, "preferably one invitation each deca-cycle."

Folding his servos in front of his chassis, Ratbat put everything Soundwave said into consideration. "So, I'm supposed to invite them twelve times, and tell them of their relocation during the twelfth meeting."

His assistant nodded. "Affirmative."

"You _assume_ their anger would have waned by then," Ratbat pointed at his assistant, but quickly lowered his finger. "Do I have to dispatch the Autobots?" Ratbat inquired further, interest thoroughly ensnared by the plan. "For security measures?"

"Autobots: unnecessary. Useless for your plans. Carrying military forces: not a sign of goodwill." Nodding in agreement, Ratbat acknowledged the advice Soundwave had given.

"And what do you want in return," Ratbat turned towards the shining yellow visor of the masked mech, optics softened in gratitude, "in exchange for this proposal, my child?"

He didn't get his answer. Soundwave chose to keep his quiet. His helm was humbly lowered.

"You couldn't possibly trade this..." Ratbat gestured at the screen, "... _brilliance_ for nothing. This could possibly save my afterburner, and you risked my wrath providing me the details," he continued, trying to rationalize his underling, "You aren't _that _generous_,_" two fingers pointed accusingly.

Again, the unreadable silence and mask. The visage provided no opening into the emotion behind it. Ratbat scrunched his optic ridges together. He still found Soundwave's loyalty too good to be true. Everything had a price. His only underling must have been expecting something in return. He just hadn't named it.

"I don't believe you," narrowing his optics, Ratbat turned towards the computer console again. "I'm going to acquire your answer later." He quickly shifted from affectionate parent mode to work mode. "Tell our subjects to select their representatives in the next megacycle and have the invitation ready. Present it to me by the beginning of the lunar cycle."

"Acknowledged, Senator Ratbat," the monotone echoed. A series of clicks coming from the control panel's keyboards later, he intoned again, "message: sent. Awaiting response." Next, an empty document spread was shown on the screen.

_My, aren't you eager to obey,_ a voice complimented in Ratbat's head. He was willing to wait for several hours but apparently his assistant would not let him. Gladly, he played along.

"Good. There are several dining invitations I've made in the past. Use them as references." Other digital documents popped up, about seven in total. They were Ratbat's past invitations, generously laden with royal verbiage. His assistant worked to suit the invitation for the lower-class citizen's language without trying to underestimate their intelligence.

The body of the text was seemingly building itself when Ratbat commented, "don't forget to personalize each invitation. Find out each representative's name and memorize their faces. Imprint their respective names on each copy of the invitation." Ratbat's fingers tapped rhythmically on his chair's armrest as he patiently waited. His mood was getting pleasant.

"Acknowledged, Senator Ratbat," the reply came swiftly from the other mech, "The documents will be marked as soon as the names are available."

The document was soon completed. Soundwave let it linger on the screen, allowing Ratbat to examine it. "Acceptable. Keep it like that, Soundwave. Notify me when the names have been confirmed."

"As you command, Senator Ratbat."

Now that their job was done, Ratbat stood, cracking his knuckles and straightening his struts. "I shall dismiss myself now," he said to himself, then turned towards his servant. "Do you wish to follow or remain?"

Soundwave hesitated before replying, "I wish to follow."

"Your cat could use a bath," Ratbat supplied an idea. "You can chase him towards the washracks. I'll prepare the decontamination tub."

"Negative. Ravage had been decontaminated recently."

"Hm," Ratbat mumbled, "that would explain the prominent scratches on your servos. Show me that." Soundwave obeyed quickly, sticking his hand out for quick examination.

"Damage: superficial," the younger mech commented as Ratbat gently ran his purple fingers across the indigo palm. The blue metal was riddled with shallow scratches, and several patches of peeled paint. True, it was nothing serious. But it was spread quite widely, from the fingers to around his wrists.

"Your appearance is flawed," Ratbat locked his optics on said flaws in his subordinate's servos, "Minor enough, but they are kinda hard to miss. I should help you fix these. Go and get yourself seated in the living room. I shall fetch the necessary tools."

Sometime later, the both of them were sitting quietly facing each other as Ratbat busied himself with Soundwave's hand, which rested in his own.. The indigo fingers curled compliantly upon his touch, warm against Ratbat's purple ones.

Ratbat's memories drifted back to when those servos were smaller, colder, and lifeless. That twist of events was unwanted; but without that, would that youngling have turned into this mech? The decision to remove that Spark was hastily taken, without being given proper consideration. He had wanted Soundwave to survive, to function; but never wanted to reprogram him into a slave. Pit, Soundwave could try to kill him and he'd find that an acceptable outcome. But instead, Soundwave was seemingly grovelling in gratitude.

Still, his loyalty was questionable. "Name your price," Ratbat suddenly inquired, rubbing his waxed cloth harder against the dark blue palm. "What do you want in return? What do you expect to gain?" He asked without looking away from his job.

Soundwave wasn't expecting that question. "Senator Ratbat: rescued my Spark willingly. Dedication and loyalty: most reasonable trade."

With Soundwave seated, Ratbat had easy access to the other's helmet. The Senator let go of the palm he had been working on and walked until he was positioned behind his assistant, purple hands roaming around the place where his rage had previously impacted, and gently touched the spot.

Soundwave went rigid, fingers tightly curled around the edge of the armrests. It was the first time Ratbat had approached him in a non-hostile way and made contact. He found his body unused to such action.

"Spare me your sentimental slag. I still remember your dying moments," Ratbat reminisced, the memory as clear as rainwater in his mind. "You were quite _daring_ back then; taking advantage over my grief and asking for a cat. Why not now?"

Ratbat was coaxing Soundwave to give a price for his loyalty. He wouldn't understand Soundwave's position; his whole life was full of mutual trades. Soundwave was the type of servant who would always give; it was part of his new processor's customization. "Situation: different."

"Hmph," the purple mech's hands were retreating, and Soundwave eased his tension. Somehow Ratbat had predicted his adopted mech's answer. Soundwave wasn't willing to give his price. Not yet. He knew Soundwave would wait to strike at the right moment. He was always like that: clever, cunning, and like his adopter, an acute opportunist.

Ratbat could only hope that when Soundwave had decided upon a price, he would still be capable of paying.

"So perverse," Ratbat took his tools and stashed them away. He glanced at the indigo fingers he had fixed. "There. Flawless and modest, just like you," he commented at the finish: matte paint, not too shiny but neatly covering the entire metal with opaque blue.

"Service and compliment: appreciated," the younger mech nodded.

"My pleasure," Ratbat waved his hand dismissively, "it's a refreshing change from the usual paperwork. Anyway, any news on the names?"

"Affirmative, Senator. Eleven names."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

**A/N: I really love readers. _Especially _those who left tracks: a name on my inbox. I mean, review please? Or favorite, or anything. I'd be really, really thankful. Just tell me what you like, what you don't like, whether the story is too fast or too slow. Your time (and clicks) would be very much appreciated. See you soon! ;) **


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